


Birthright

by Circeancity



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Prince Keith (Voltron), Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circeancity/pseuds/Circeancity
Summary: After a failed mission, two Paladins find themselves at the mercy of the Galra prince. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) he takes an interest in them.





	Birthright

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly canon compliant up to the end of season 2, save for Shiro's disappearance.

The heavy metal door slammed shut, leaving the two paladins alone, chained to the wall, with the promise that “his highness” would see them soon. Writhing and pulling against the chains proved wholly ineffective, but it was all they could do not to utterly lose hope. A sharp popping sound, followed by a short cry ended Lance’s efforts. “Don’t hurt yourself.” Keith said with a weak, teasing grin.

“Too late for that.” Lance laughed past his grimace and nodded up towards where his left wrist was chained, bent awkwardly but not broken. It quickly grew quiet, leaving the paladins to their own thoughts. They avoided looking at eachother as the tension grew thicker. A distant scream rang out from elsewhere in the prison, bringing the obvious question to the surface. “What do you think they’ll do to us?” Lance asked, unable to bear it alone.

Keith sighed and slumped down further against the cold steel wall, “I don’t know, pick us for information and throw us into space? If we’re lucky we’ll end up in the arena like Shiro, but since he escaped last time...I don’t think they’ll be that kind.”

Silence.

Lance laughed again, bleak but not totally humorless “Damn. I got my fortune read a few years back and it said I’d die in a shark attack. Surfing somewhere off  _ Playa Anc _ _ ón _ . I’ve been avoiding it for nothing.”

“You can surf?” Keith raised his eyebrows, aggravating a cut that had almost began healing. A trickle of fresh blood flowed down his face.

“Oh yeah, I’m good at it too. A-and I’m not lying to sound cool. I really can surf.”

“Never knew that.”

“Not a lot of beaches in space, dude.”

That got an honest laugh from Keith, though it hurt to even breathe too deeply. “I guess not.”

More silence. Heavy, oppressive, punctuated only by the paladin’s breathing and the rattle of chains. Keith wanted, of all things, to be able to hug him. To give and get what little comfort he could from being together in this. But even with the chains fully extended, the paladins were about ten feet apart. 

The door opened, flooding the room with the Galra’s signature sickly purple light. Silhouetted against it were two figures. One an average soldier. Tall, imposing, but nothing they hadn’t dealt with before. The other wore much more regal armor, and everything from the way he stood to how he looked down on them, like they were vermin, told the paladins he was in charge here. 

The regal Galra approaches Lance. He leaned down in front of him until the two were almost face to face, snow white hair hanging down over the his shoulders.

“I like the blue one.” He noted, reaching out and stroking Lance’s face with his hand. 

“The blue one has a name” Lance shot back, leaning away from the alien’s claws. He desperately wished for his arms to be free, or at least for the chains to allow enough movement to bite this cocky purple quiznak.

“Does he now?” the Galra raised an eyebrow and put his hand back, running it down Lance’s neck and coming to rest on his chest. He smiled like a cat to a mouse, “What is it?”

Yellow eyes locked into blue and trapped him in a stare down between predator and prey. Lance wondered, with the Galra’s hand on his chest, if he could feel how fast his heart was beating. His voice didn’t even shake when he answered, “Lance.”

“Lance? Hideous.” He took his hand away and stood back up. “Then again, no alien tongue is ever pleasant.”

Lance’s courage returned as the Galra stepped away to tell the guard something. “Oh yeah? I bet yours isn’t that great either.” Sassing the enemy would only hurt him in the long run, but hey, it made him feel a little less powerless at the moment.

“You say that as though you’ve never heard of me.” he seemed almost hurt by the thought. “I am Lotor vas Zarkon, prince imperial of the Galra.” Before Lance can press into that more, Lotor addressed the guard.

“We only need one to trap the others. I want this one in my garden.” the paladins looked at eachother, eyes wide in confusion and fear, neither knowing what that could possibly mean. Lance’s heart pounded in his chest, he tried to think of something, anything he could say to at least keep them together. Thankfully, Keith has the same thought.

“What about me?” Keith asked, masking his fear with a cocky, impatient tone, “I’m a Paladin too.”

Lotor turned to him and chuckled, “Aw, a volunteer? You flatter me. But no. You’re too boring. And if your fighting style is any indication, you’d be too much trouble. Kotox, go. I’ll stay here with Red.”

The guard, Kotox evidently, silently unchained Lance from the wall. He tried to fight back but after the battle, the capture, and the time spent trying to free himself, it was all he could do to just wrestle weakly against the Galra’s hold. 

“Keith!”

“Lance!”

Keith tried to reach him, he really did. He pulled harder and harder against the chains but to no avail. The guard left and the door shut. Taking with it possibly the last memory Keith would have of his friend. 

Lotor had the nerve to laugh. “You two were rather close then? I hope you’re not the jealous type.” Keith spat at him in response, landing just shy of his boot. “Cute. Listen, you pathetic mongrel, I’m not going to kill you just yet. I have questions.”

“And what makes you think I’ll answer them?” Keith’s voice was shaking, but his eyes were set hard. 

Lotor walked over to him, long legs clearing the space between them in a single stride. He stopped with one of his boots on Keith’s knee. “Pain is usually a good motivator.” he said casually, applying just a bit of pressure. A threat.

A small part of Keith, already resigned to death on the whole, lamented that he wasn’t even going to get a quick one. “I won’t talk.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Lotor unsheathed a knife from his belt.  _ Keith’s _ knife. He leaned down and held it to the paladin’s face, showing him the unreadable marking. “Where did you get this?”

“I’ve always had it.”

“Wrong answer!” he stomped down, hard, on Keith’s leg. The sickening crunch of bone was drowned out by the paladin’s scream. Lotor waited for him to finish, deep shuddering breaths being as quiet as he could get, before continuing. “Where did you get it?” He stepped off, gets down to eye level, and extends the blade to its true form. 

“I-I didn’t...” words were hard to come by between the blaring pain and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, but he finds them, “My mother. G-gave me...It belonged to my mother.”

The truth this time. Still, Keith trembled as he attempted to catch his breath, anticipating it would be another wrong answer. Lotor pressed the tip of the knife into the thigh of Keith’s unbroken leg. “Thieving whore. Where did  _ she _ get it?”

Keith blinked the tears from his eyes, anger returning to him at the insult of a woman he never knew. His voice was as steady as it’s ever been when he responded. “Nowhere. It was hers. It was always hers.”

“Wrong again.” He dug it in, just enough for blood to start seeping out into the pristine white spacesuit.

“How do you know?” Keith argued, well aware that he was trying his luck at this point.

“Because  _ I _ am the true owner of this blade. It is my birthright.” He dragged the knife slowly, carving a thin line down to Keith’s knee. 

Keith’s breath caught in his throat, but he managed not to scream. “Y-you’re wrong. I’ve al-already awakened it. It’s mine.”

Lotor stopped. He looked up from his grim work, sadistic smile falling as he met the Paladin’s eyes. “Impossible.”

“I can prove it.” He waved one of his cuffed hands. A more rational side of him wondered why he’s doing this. Why this honor he never knew he had was so worth protecting. That side was drowned out as Lotor returned the blade to its dormant state and placed it in Keith’s waiting hand.

After the first time, it had always been second nature. He angles the sword away from his head (and towards Lotor’s, though he’s far too smart to fall for that and steps back) and in a flash of light it grows.

The prince’s eyes widened. “There is...no way both of us can do that.” the formality dropped from his voice, leaving a wash of pure confusion in its wake. “Awakening an ancestral blade requires--”

“Galra blood. I know it was kind of a big thing to find out.” he waves the knife ineffectively to emphasize his point.

“Oh please. If it just required you to be a Galra, every lout in the galaxy could wield one. Ten thousand years of conquest has that effect.” He moved back over and plucked the sword from his hand, making sure it was dormant before sheathing it once more. “Ancestral blades can only be properly wielded by those in their bloodline. Passed down to the eldest child of each generation. This knife belonged to my mother, Queen Marmora vas Daibazaal. It should  _ not _ work for you. It can’t. It...”

The next few moments were silent, but Keith watched as a wide array of emotions passed over the prince. Panic, anger, hatred, settling on resignation. He sighs and leaves the room without saying anything. Leaving Keith to bleed out on the cell floor.

“Queen Marmora...?”

The name repeated in his mind over and over, until everything faded to black.


End file.
